you'll get up and go at six o'clock in the morning—that is, if you'll wear gloves. But you mortify me half to death riding without gloves."
"Nobody sees me but milkmen," I said, humbly.
"Well, what will the milkmen think?" said my brother.
"Mercy on us, I never thought of that," I said. "My gloves are all pretty tight when one has to grip one's handle-bars as fiercely as I do. But I'll get large ones. What tint do you think milkmen care the most for?"
He sniffed.
"Well, I'll go and I'll wear gloves," I said, "but if I fall off, remember it will be on account of the gloves."
"You always do fall off," he said, with patient resignation. "I've seen you fall off that wheel in more different directions than it has spokes."
"I don't exactly fall," I explained, carefully. "I feel myself going and then I get off."
I was ready at six the next morning, and I wore gloves.
"Now, don't ride into the holes in the street"—one is obliged to give such instructions in Chicago—"and don't look at anything you see. Don't be afraid. You're all right. Now, then! You're off!"
"Oh, Teddy, don't ride so close to me," I quavered.
"I'm forty feet away from you," he said.
"Then double it," I said. "You're choking me by your proximity."
"Let's cross the railroad tracks just for practice," he said, when it was too late for me to expostulate. "Stand up on your pedals and ride fast, and—"
"Hold on, please do," I shrieked. "I'm falling off. Get out of my way. I seem to be turning—"
He scorched ahead, and I headed straight for the switchman's hut, rounded it neatly, and leaned myself and my wheel against the side of it, helpless with laughter.
A red Irish face, with a short black pipe in its mouth, thrust itself out of the tiny window just in front of me, and a voice with a rich brogue exclaimed:
"As purty a bit of riding as iver Oi see!"
"Wasn't it?" I cried. "You couldn't do it."
"Oi wouldn't thry! Oi'd rather tackle a railroad train going at full spheed thin wan av thim runaway critturs."
"Get down from there," hissed my brother so close to my ear that it made me bite my tongue.
I obediently scrambled down. Ted's face was very red.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself to enter into immediate conversation with a man like that. What do you suppose that man thought of you?"
"Oh, perhaps he saw my gloves and took me for a lady," I pleaded.
Ted grinned and assisted me to mount.
When I successfully turned the corner by making Ted fall back out of sight, we rode away along the boulevard in silence for a while, for my conversation when I am on a wheel is generally limited to shrieks, ejaculations, and snatches of prayer. I never talk to be amusing.
"I say," said my brother, hesitatingly, "I wear a No. 8 glove and a No. 10 stocking."
"I've always thought you had large hands and feet," I said, ignoring the hint.
He giggled.
"No, now, really. I wish you'd write that down somewhere. You can get those things so cheap in Paris."
"You are supposing the case of my return, or of Christmas intervening, or—a present of some kind, I suppose."
"Well, no; not exactly. Although you know I am always broke—"
"Don't I, though?"
"And that I am still in debt—"
"Because papa insists upon your putting some money in the bank every month—"
"Yes, and the result is that I never get my head above water. I owe you twenty now."
"Which I never expect to recover, because you know I always get silly about Christmas and 'forgive thee thy debts.'"
"You're awful good—" he began.
"But I'll be better if I bring you gloves and silk stockings."
"I'll give you the money!" he said, heroically. "Will you borrow it of me or of mamma?" I asked, with a chuckle at the family financiering which always goes on in this manner.
"Now don't make fun of me! You don't know what it is to be hard up."
"Don't I, though?" I said, indignantly. "Oh—oh! Catch me!"
He seized my handle-bar and righted me before I fell off.
"See what you did by saying I never was hard up," I said. "I'll tell you what, Teddy. You needn't give me the money. I'll bring you some gloves and stockings!"
"Oh, I say, honest? Oh, but you're the right kind of a sister! I'll never forget that as long as I live. You do look so nice on your wheel. You sit so straight and—"
I saw a milkman coming. We three were the only objects in sight, yet I headed for him.
"Get out of my way," I shrieked at him. "I'm a beginner. Turn off!"
He lashed his horse and cut down a side street.
"What a narrow escape," I sighed. "How glad I am I happened to think of that."
I looked up pleasantly at Ted. He was biting his lips and he looked raging.
"You are the most hopeless girl I ever saw!" he burst out. "I wish you didn't own a wheel."
"I don't," I said. "The wheel owns me."
"You haven't the manners of—"
"Stockings," I said, looking straight ahead. "Silk stockings with polka dots embroidered on them, No. 10."
Ted looked sheepish.
"I ride so well," I proceeded. "I sit up so straight and look so nice."
No answer.
"Gloves," I went on, still without looking at him. "White and pearl ones for evening, and russet gloves for the street, No. 8."
"Oh, quit, won't you? I'm sorry I said that. But if you only knew how you mortify me."
"Cheer up, Tedcastle. I am going away, you know. And when I come back you will either have got over caring so much or I will be more of a lady."
"I'm sorry you are going," said my brother. "But as you are going, perhaps you will let me use your rooms while you are gone. Your bed is the best one I ever slept in, and your study would be bully for the boys when they come to see me."
